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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604781">cuddles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites'>killerqueenwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i will always hold you close (irondad bingo) [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Light Angst, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Platonic Cuddling, Sleepy Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:33:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Peter?” Tony wheezes. His voice is trembling, his hands, too.</p><p>“Hi,” Peter whispers, keeping his voice low, the way Tony always does when it’s him waking up in a panic. “It’s all right, we’re at home. You fell asleep on the couch.”</p><p>“Home,” Tony breathes out. The frantic terror sitting behind his eyes slowly begins to fade. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles across Peter’s cheek, as if to check he’s really solid. “Okay.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i will always hold you close (irondad bingo) [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>389</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cuddles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>if you're subscribed to me, sorry for the spam you're getting. i'm reuploading my irondad bingo one-shots as individual stories to make it easier for people to find them and so they can be stories in their own right. <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019488/chapters/45168637"> they were originally posted here.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter wakes up in the middle of the night. It’s unsurprising, a habit at this point. It’s been months since coming back, years – although it doesn’t feel like it to him – since that ill-fated field trip, and he still wakes up every night like fucking clockwork, his heart pounding and breaths coming hard.</p><p> </p><p>If he’s at home in Queens, he usually goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and does his best not to wake May – she’s running her own charity now and loves it, but it wears her out. If he’s at the cabin, his second home – his second second home, since Thanos blew up the Compound – he seeks out Tony.</p><p> </p><p>The first time this had happened and he’d stumbled down the hall, still half-asleep and trembling from the aftershocks of his nightmare, he hadn’t stopped to consider that the sudden appearance of a dark figure in their doorway might terrify both Pepper and Tony until he was already there. Luckily, shadowy visits in the middle of the night seem to come with the territory of having a four-year-old, and Tony had taken him back to bed and whispered reassurances to him until he fell back asleep.</p><p> </p><p>This time, Peter lies still, trying to control his breathing for a minute, before rolling out of bed and honing in on the heartbeat he knows better than his own. It isn’t at the end of the hall this time, but downstairs, so that’s where he goes.</p><p> </p><p>He finds Tony – no longer Mr Stark in his head – stretched out on the couch, a tablet balanced precariously on his chest. Peter hesitates, not wanting to disturb him; a quick glance at his watch confirms it’s nearly two.</p><p> </p><p>And then Tony huffs out a little breath. His heartbeat picks up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What do I do?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Tony gasps, and Peter freezes. He doesn’t know what to do here; it’s always the other way around, always Tony comforting him, always Tony squeezing his fingers and kissing his forehead to remind him he’s solid. “No, Peter–“</p><p> </p><p>That settles it. “Tony.” Peter crouches next to him, hands hovering, uncertain. “Tony, hey.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, <em>no</em>,” Tony breathes, on the verge of a sob. “No–“</p><p> </p><p>“Tony!” Peter grabs his shoulder, hard. “Tony, wake up!”</p><p> </p><p>Tony does, jolting upright with a choked scream. Peter catches the StarkPad before it can crash to the floor and shoves it on the coffee table.</p><p> </p><p>“Tony! Tony, it’s me! I’m here, I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Peter?” Tony wheezes. His voice is trembling, his hands, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Peter whispers, keeping his voice low, the way Tony always does when it’s him waking up in a panic. “It’s all right, we’re at home. You fell asleep on the couch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Home,” Tony breathes out. The frantic terror sitting behind his eyes slowly begins to fade. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles across Peter’s cheek, as if to check he’s really solid. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s January twentieth,” Peter says quietly. “The weather is fucking freezing. It’s, like, two in the morning. Morgan and Pepper are upstairs. I’m here with you. We’re fine. We’re all fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony nods, his hand sliding down to Peter’s neck and hovering there. Against the pulse point, Peter realises. Feeling his heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>“Bad dream?”</p><p> </p><p>“Memory.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Peter doesn’t push. He can take a good guess what it was. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony nods again and Peter leans forward, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Oof – kid–“</p><p> </p><p>“Just shut up and let me cuddle you.”</p><p> </p><p>Back <em>before</em>, Tony would have groaned and laughed it off and muttered something like, “Iron Man doesn’t cuddle.” This Tony isdifferent; Peter doesn’t know if it was losing him, or Morgan arriving, or a combination of all of that, but this Tony melts into the hug like he desperately needs it. He probably does.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re fine,” Peter says again. “We’re here. We all made it. You saved me, Tony.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re here,” Tony agrees. “God, my kid. My kid.”</p><p> </p><p>Peter smiles and hums contentedly, pushing his nose into Tony’s soft sweater.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re good at this. Why did we never do this before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Toxic masculinity?” Peter suggests. “Emotional constipation? Fear of rejection?”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably.” Tony’s hand lands on his head, gentle fingers working through his curls. “What were you doing downstairs, Underoos?”</p><p> </p><p>“Looking for you.” Peter admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Bad dream?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe. Can’t really remember it, but…it scared me. Good timing, though, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” But Tony sounds far away. “Not your job to worry about me, Pete.”</p><p> </p><p>“And it’s yours to worry about me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“What job would that be?”</p><p> </p><p>Tony gazes down at him, his expression softening the same way it always does when he’s looking at Morgan. He doesn’t answer, but his doesn’t need to. They both know.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s someone’s bedtime,” Tony says finally.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re hilarious, bud. Get yourself a Netflix special. I’ll watch it.”</p><p> </p><p>Peter rolls his eyes. “Going upstairs requires effort. Here, on the other hand, is comfortable and warm and doesn’t require moving. Guess which one I’m picking?”</p><p> </p><p>“What if I want to go upstairs?”</p><p> </p><p>“I could bench fifty of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds vaguely threatening.” Tony reaches behind him and pulls a blanket from nowhere, draping it over both of them. “Couch sleepover it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was <em>supposed</em> to sound vaguely threatening,” Peter says. “You are in dire need of hugs. So am I, as it happens, and your hugs are particularly good.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take it,” Tony says. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, father, superhero and hugger.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>Tony gives awesome hugs – the best, Peter thinks, because they remind him a little of Ben in ways that aren’t painful.</p><p> </p><p>“What was your nightmare about?” Peter says after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Tony pauses. “Doesn’t matter.”</p><p> </p><p>“You said my name.”</p><p> </p><p>Another pause, then Tony twists his head to press a kiss to Peter’s temple. “I think you know. Like you said, it’s okay. I got you back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm.”</p><p> </p><p>“I forget what a good conversation partner you are when you’re sleepy.” Tony’s hand moves from his head to the nape of his neck, rubbing it gently.</p><p> </p><p>Peter stretches and shifts, finds a more comfortable position. His eyelids are already drooping.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, go to sleep,” Tony whispers. “I’m right here. No more bad dreams, kid. I got you.”</p><p> </p><p>Peter’s too tired to answer, too tired to do anything except nestle himself further into Tony’s chest with a contented sigh. Tony’s hugs mean warmth, safety, quiet, comfort.</p><p> </p><p>“Go back to sleep, and Morgan will be waking you up before you know it. I’ll make breakfast, and you’ll complain about the wholewheat bread, and Pep will be scrambling eggs and strongly hinting we should get our own chickens. Just a normal day, ‘cause we can have those now. Whole family together.” Tony stifles a yawn, but it comes out as a long sigh. The rise and fall of his chest is soothing beyond measure, and Peter focuses on his heartbeat again, listens to it slow as they both drift closer to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Tony keeps mumbling nonsense, keeps stroking a thumb across the back of his neck, and holds Peter close. The last thing he hears before his eyes slip closed for good is, “Love you, kid.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm on tumblr at <a href="https://akillerqueenwrites.tumblr.com">akillerqueenwrites</a>, or my main blog <a href="https://akillerqueenyouare.tumblr.com">akillerqueenyouare</a>. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. i've also made a twitter, <a href="https://twitter.com/killerqueenao3">@killerqueenao3</a> , if any of you want to talk to me there (it's mostly pictures of my dog). thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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